


More Than A Call Away

by midnightskydan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Communication, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightskydan/pseuds/midnightskydan
Summary: It gave a ring and Phil listened for Dan to answer. The first ring ended and the second began. When that ring ended, Phil became aware of a buzzing sound. He looked around, realizing the sound was the vibration of a phone. Sure enough, his eyes landed on Dan’s phone, sat on the table by the doorway to the lounge.Dan had left his phone.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	More Than A Call Away

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes to work through feelings you have to let them explode out a little bit. it just sucks when that happens at the same time as someone else.
> 
> (or u could just write to work through ur feelings, such as i did here.)
> 
> Warnings: depression, anxiety, paranoia, kind-of fights, overly dramatic jskdjs, breakdowns, panic attacks, accusations, mentions of toxic relationship habits

“Where’s Dan?” Phil read aloud from the YouNow chat. It was nearing nine pm, and he would be saying his goodbyes soon, but he’d decided there would be no harm in acknowledging the question. “Uh, Dan’s gone out, I think. I suppose I could ring him, though,” he offered. “Shall I call him so he can say hello to you all before I go?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Phil read from the chat again. He smiled. “Alright,” he said, chuckling and picking up his phone. He pulled up Dan’s contact, pressing call.

It gave a ring and Phil listened for Dan to answer. The first ring ended and the second began. When that ring ended, Phil became aware of a buzzing sound. He looked around, realizing the sound was the vibration of a phone. Sure enough, his eyes landed on Dan’s phone, sat on the table by the doorway to the lounge. 

Dan had left his phone. 

Phil swallowed, and Dan’s phone went to voicemail. He pressed hang-up, looking back at the webcam, and putting on a smile as he shook his head. “Guess Dan’s more interested in the milk at the shops than talking to you guys,” Phil said, grinning. “Or maybe he doesn’t want me to call him just to ask for sweets, uhm. Anyway, I think I’ll read the top fans again and then I’m going to go and get some food started,” Phil said, reading through the list of top fans and thanking them, presenting them with prizes off the top of his head. He said goodbye to a few people before pressing the button to end the live show and closing his laptop.

Phil swallowed, walking over to the small table to find Dan’s phone with a missed call from Phil. He wasn’t sure why he had double-checked. He looked around. Maybe Dan had returned, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Dan?” Phil called through the flat. “Dan? Did you get home?”

No answer.

Dan had left on a walk without a word just a bit before Phil went live. Phil knew that sometimes he just liked to clear his head by leaving the flat. Dan had tried to explain it to him before. When he had his breakdowns, he was at home, in this flat. Sometimes he got claustrophobic, in a way. It was difficult for him to continue to be in the same place he’d become upset. Walking outside and down the street was way of going somewhere new to reset, if only for a moment. Phil hadn’t quite understood, but he continued to let Dan go with a soft reminder to be careful. He knew it wasn’t worth it to argue.

Dan had left his phone behind a few other times, and it always made anxiety curl in Phil’s stomach.

And the worst thing was, that Phil couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t call Dan, text him even. Couldn’t find out where he was. He couldn’t very well go out to find him. He could call friends and ask if they had a clue. They almost definitely wouldn’t, and he didn’t want to worry them. He could call the police, but that was a rather drastic call to make. If Phil resorted to that and Dan was fine (which he likely was), then he’d be pissed and feel even worse.

All that Phil could do was pace the floors, reminding himself that Dan was always fine. He always got home.

But what if tonight was the night that he didn’t?

What if he got hurt? What if he got mugged, got hit by a car? What if Dan was in an even worse mental state than Phil thought? What if he wanted that to happen to him? Or worse, what if he’d do something to himself?

Phil had awoken this morning with a tight ball of anxiety in his stomach. He woke up this way every once and awhile. Usually, it went away as the day progressed. Given a situational reason to, though, the anxiety reappeared, twice as tight in his belly.

Phil couldn’t help working himself up into a panic over Dan, and he had no way to resolve it aside from his own attempts to reassure himself. Though, he wasn’t quite good at that reassurance. He couldn’t stop the thoughts that tore through any attempt at a mental blockade. He couldn’t distract himself. He couldn’t focus on anything. He was quickly forgetting every coping mechanism he’d picked up over the years.

Phil found himself sitting on the black chair in the lounge, looking out the window at the dark city street. Pedestrians were few and far between at this time of night, but every time anyone passed by Phil sat up and watched until he determined they weren’t Dan. None of them were Dan.

Disasters played out in Phil’s mind. A sick part of his mind enjoyed in the catastrophizing and found solace in the adrenaline that came with nauseating anxiety. It was so much easier to indulge than to ignore.

Dan could get hit by a car tonight. Phil would get a call from the hospital. Maybe not right away. Maybe in the morning, when someone found him. Dan could be lying in the road somewhere, as Phil sat here at home, bleeding and dying. Alone. Fuck.

Or if it was worse than Phil thought. If he was suicidal again. Dan was always reluctant to mention when those thoughts were truly getting to him again, and it scared Phil. What if Dan let the bad thoughts grow and grow and grow until he found himself falling from the nearest tall building?

Phil’s leg was shaking almost violently. His breaths were shaky as well.

What if Dan was somewhere, scrawling a suicide note onto paper and holding a bottle of pills?

Phil would have to go to his funeral. Would he have to explain to Dan’s family why he let Dan go out sad and alone? Why he couldn’t save Dan? Or would he get pissed at them? Tell them they should have been there, been supportive? God, they didn’t even know who Phil was to Dan. Phil would have to speak to a room full of people that didn’t know what he and Dan had. Dan would die never having told—

Phil’s eyes caught on yet another figure in black walking down the street. Long black coat, black jeans. He watched carefully, holding his breath. The figure turned to enter the apartment building.

Phil jumped to his feet so quickly that he hit his knee on the table. He ignored the pain, though it almost broke the damn that had been holding off tears. He rushed to the stairs, walking down them. The door opened. Dan entered, Phil still a staircase up from him. He took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, looking down.

“Dan,” Phil said, voice breaking a bit. Dan glanced up at him but didn’t reply. Phil hurried down the rest of the stairs and bit his lip, a last-ditch effort to keep the tears at bay. He wrapped his arms around Dan and held him tightly.

Dan remained stiff under his arms, not even raising his own to hug back.

“I was so—I thought—I was so worried, Dan,” Phil said, voice still shaky. “I hadn’t realized you left your phone, and I—I—”

“Phil,” Dan said. His voice sounded so tired. “Can we do this later?”

Phil pulled back from the one-sided embrace, irritation climbing his throat now. “What?”

“This whole you talking and me apologizing and shit. I just want to sleep,” Dan said, moving past Phil to head up the stairs.

Phil was still shaking, still not breathing quite right. Still caught up in catastrophes. Then, though, it all came to a head. Irritation was the final one to topple the pile of emotions in his mind.

“Are you fucking serious?” Phil asked, voice breathy. Tears started to slip down his cheeks.

Dan groaned. Like properly groaned, and it felt like a slap across Phil’s face.

“Okay. Fucking fine. Let’s just do the abridged version, shall we? ‘Dan, why’d you go out?’ Because I’m depressed. ‘You left your phone.’ Yeah because I’m an asshole. ‘You made me worry!’ Cool. Thanks for the guilt trip, love you, goodnight.” Dan walked up the stairs.

Phil took in a sharp and shaky inhale. The twisting in his gut felt more like stabbing now. Like Dan had fucking wedged a knife just below his ribs with those words.

At Phil’s inhale, Dan paused briefly on the stairs. He continued up them.

Phil fell against the wall, tears pouring down his cheeks soundlessly. The tears got worse, the shakes impossible to control, and the anxiety in his stomach incapacitating. Sobs came before Phil could expect them, and he leaned against the wall, sobbing. He buried his face in his hands.

Fuck Dan. Getting him so fucking worried just to act like a goddamned prick. God, he could have died. Phil had been so afraid. And he didn’t even care. Fuck.

Phil kicked the banister, letting out a pathetic whimper as he did so.  _ Fuck _ !

He gathered himself just enough to drag himself back up the stairs. Dan was in the kitchen, filling a glass with water. He walked into the kitchen. His sobs calmed to sniffles. His arms wrapped around himself. He waited for Dan to look up. Dan didn’t.

“What the fuck was that?” Phil asked, voice shaky and laced in tears, but still angry.

Dan looked over at him. “God, Phil.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t keep doing this. I’m fucking guilty all the time anyway, why are you so intent on making me fucking hate myself?” Maybe it was easier to be mad than to face the guilt and sadness and the fear that he’d never be good enough for Phil. Fuck it. There was no ‘maybe’ about it. It  _ was _ easier to be angry. It  _ was _ easier to translate the cocktail of fear, sadness, and guilt into anger.

“Shut up!” Phil pushed Dan away weakly by the shoulder, before dropping to the floor and leaning against the cupboards. He hid his face in his hands, grunting. “I fucking hate you,” he said.

“Jesus Christ, Phil. If that’s how you feel I’ll just fucking go again,” Dan said.

Phil kicked out his legs, hitting the cupboards across from him. His movements were jerky and violent like his body couldn’t contain all the pent-up anxiety. “Stop!” he cried. “Just stop, Dan!”

“Phil, if I could fucking stop being sad and scared and lonely all the goddamned time, I would! Going out alone for a while is one of the only things that help. Don’t make me feel guilty for this shit again.”

“You’re not the only one that has feelings!” Phil’s voice was quiet, squeaky, and shaky.

“No, just fucking debilitating depression.”

“Okay, I get it! Your fucking depression trumps whatever the fuck this is.” Phil gestured at himself.

“Don’t make this a fucking contest Phil.”

“Well if you cared about m-m-my feelings I wouldn’t have—have to compete!” He was losing his resolve, dissolving into tears and sobs again. He felt like utter shit and all he wanted was the soft voice and gentle hands that Dan had when Phil got like this without Dan being the cause.

“I’m not doing this tonight, Phil. Neither of us is thinking rationally. I’m going to bed.” Dan opened the kitchen door, starting out.

“Dan,” Phil sobbed, pulling at his own hair. “D-don’t leave m-me.” Why didn’t Dan care? Phil didn’t get like this all the time. He wasn’t being dramatic. His heart felt like it was going to jump its way up his throat, he’d forgotten how to properly use his lungs, his stomach felt so knotted that he wanted to vomit, and he shook so much that he couldn’t even reach out for Dan. Wasn’t he so obviously breaking down? Why didn’t Dan care? “Don’t leave me,” he whimpered again.

“God, Phil,” Phil heard from somewhere close. He’d closed his eyes and brought his hands to cover his face. He was afraid to open them and look past his hands at the big and scary world and the reality of his fight with Dan. Besides, the world seemed to be spinning around him and it was making him feel so, so, sick.

“Why don’t you—” Phil sobbed. “Why don’t you c-c—” he sobbed again, unable to complete the question.

“I do care,” Dan said, somewhere close. He hadn’t left. “Of course, I care, Phil. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to help when I’m the one making everything worse.” His voice was shaky now, too.

Phil whimpered. He didn’t know how to express every terrible thing he was fearing now. “I don’t want you to die,” he ended up crying.

Dan sighed. “I’m not going to die, Phil.” His voice still sounded tired and strained, but it was softer now.

“You could!” Phil sobbed. “There are bad people out there and accidents and scary thoughts in your head and you could die, and I wouldn’t know. I—I wouldn’t know where you were. And you’d just be gone.”

Dan sounded closer now as he sighed again. “You’re letting anxiety get the best of you, Phil.”

“Well, I have anxiety, Dan!” Phil replied, choking on a sob just after. “I feel this terrible every time you go out on your damn therapeutic walks.” He regretted it as soon as he said it.

It was Dan’s turn to pull in a sharp breath. “I get it Phil; I make you feel like shit.”

He didn’t want to blame Dan for the stuff he had to deal with. He didn’t want to make Dan guilty. He just felt shitty, and he wasn’t thinking, and he didn’t know how to make this all better. “Shut up!” Phil sobbed again. “Shut up. Shut up. I didn’t mean— You  _ know _ — I love you. I-I-I—”

Dan took in a deep breath. Phil managed to open his eyes. Dan sat crisscross on the floor beside him, facing Phil, but looking hesitant to move closer. He looked so tired. He bit his lip, meeting Phil’s eyes. Everything around Dan was a swirl of blurry confusion, but Dan remained clear. Dan was here. He was okay.

Phil whimpered. “Dan., I love you.” He said it like he wanted it to magically fix everything.

Dan decided to pretend that it did. He was so tired, and he knew he was being shitty. They rarely actually became combative during an argument, and Phil couldn’t seem to pull himself together. So, Dan had to. He slowly moved a hand to rest on Phil’s knee. “I know. I love you too.”

Phil grabbed Dan’s hand off his knee, squeezing it. He brought his knees back up to his chest. He needed to talk, needed to explain why he was so afraid. He needed Dan to address his fears directly. To tell him that none of them would happen. To promise they were both okay. 

“I was so scared,” he said. “I-I—I kept thinking that the hospital was gonna call. That you’d gotten hurt. I-I know that it’s almost all in my head I just—” Phil chuckled humorlessly, looking down at their hands. “I never want to let go of you.” He was still shaking badly, but his sobs had stopped. He thought he had probably run out.

“You don’t have to,” Dan said. “I’m here. We’re safe.” His voice was hoarse and exhausted. “Want to just head to bed?”

Phil nodded. “But I—I can’t, um…I can’t…” He looked down at himself. He couldn’t calm down enough to sleep yet. Nervous energy still filled his body, and he still felt like being sick.

“Oh,” Dan said softly. He shifted to sit just beside Phil against the cupboards. He didn’t have the energy to offer words of comfort, but he could feel how much Phil was shaking. “Can you come with me to the bedroom? It’ll probably feel better in there.”

“I-I-I—” Phil struggled to form words for a moment. He shook his head, holding his knees tighter. “Can’t-can’t move yet.”

Dan took in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“Dizzy,” Phil added.

“God, Phil,” Dan breathed softly, rubbing a thumb over Phil’s knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Phil sniffled. “S’not your fault,” he said quietly.

“It’s a bit my fault,” Dan said.

Phil shrugged. He pulled Dan’s hand up to his heart and held it against his chest as he slowly steadied his breathing. Dan could feel his heartbeat, much faster than normal, but not by too alarming an amount.

“I guess both of our brain chemistry decided to fuck us up today,” Dan said softly.

Phil nodded, breathing in a practiced way, counting in his mind. Dan moved a bit closer, their hips pressing together.

Dan wasn’t good at physical affection, especially not when he was feeling so disconnected from his senses, from warmth, and from himself. Still, he knew after so many years, that Phil needed it in times like this. That it was the best way to communicate support, especially when he was upset.

Dan moved his left arm around Phil’s waist, and Phil’s breathing stuttered. Dan stilled, watching to assure that it was okay. Phil then let go of Dan’s right hand and leaned into Dan, whimpering softly, and clutching onto Dan’s shirt. Dan sighed in relief, holding Phil properly as Phil began his breathing exercise again.

“Little better?” Dan asked, voice sounding strained.

Phil sniffled. “Yeah. I-I’ll be okay. I, um, I just need some water.” He moved to stand, still shaky.

Dan stood first, a bit too quickly, and he was hit by a headrush, leaning against the counter. Phil held onto the counter as he rose slowly. His head was still spinning. Dan grabbed the glass he’d been drinking from, still half-full and set it in front of Phil. Phil managed to take a drink before standing fully upright on his own.

“Bed?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed.

Phil stepped back from the counter and stumbled, leaning into Dan. Dan wrapped an arm around him to steady them both.

And what a pair they were, trying not to crumble. Phil was moving on shaking limbs, threatening to tumble over and spill onto the floor into a mess similar to that in his head, and Dan’s body felt heavy as he stepped, as if he could crush himself with the weight of his own brain and melt into a puddle, slipping further and further away from himself.

“We’re okay,” Phil said, managing a laugh. “Think we can make it.”

Dan tried his best at a smile, not managing much. “Yeah. We’ll go slow. Right messes we are.”

“At least we’re together,” Phil said. They made it to the stairs and Phil bit back a sob. “Fuck,” he cried, stumbling again.

“What?” Dan asked, biting his lip. He just wanted to sleep.

Phil laughed through his tears. “I really don’t want to go back down to the bathroom to take out my contacts.”

Dan huffed out a breath. “Haven’t you got a few more sets? Just toss them in the bin in the bedroom.”

“You’re a bloody genius,” Phil breathed, grabbing the railing, and stepping up the stairs.

They went into Phil’s room, as Dan’s was a mess of tissues and dirty clothes and the remnants of a depressive episode. Neither of them bothered turning on a light. They’d left their phones downstairs. Phil’s eyes burned when he peeled the contacts off them, tossing them into the bin beside his bed. His eyes filled with tears that lessened the dry sensation, though, and he collapsed back against his bed. He wasn’t sure this bed had ever felt so comfortable.

Dan peeled off his jeans and t-shirt, crawling beneath the covers. He fell onto his back as well, just beside Phil. Shifting, he pulled the duvet out from beneath them and tossed it over them. He laid back on his back, taking in a slow breath. 

Phil needed touch. Dan needed a bit of space to get himself to sleep. So, Dan reached with his hand until he found Phil’s beneath the covers, tangling their fingers together. Phil pulled Dan’s hand above the covers, lying their entwined hands on the duvet between them.

Phil breathed out shakily, squeezing his hand. Dan took that as a ‘thank you.’

“Dan?” Phil asked softly, shakily.

“Yes?” Dan wished his voice wouldn’t come out so flat and tired.

“Do I really make you feel guilty for being sad?”

Dan swallowed. He didn’t have the strength to do this conversation justice tonight, but he knew Phil needed to reach a resolution before he’d be able to calm down and sleep. They could revisit the conversation when they both felt better. They could talk briefly now, though, if that was what Phil needed. “Sometimes,” Dan answered honestly.

Phil looked down at their hands. “How can I stop?”

Dan just shrugged.

“Really, I’m asking. What can I stop doing to make you feel better?” His voice was gentle and quiet, still a bit shaky. Dan knew he meant what he said, that he wanted more than anything to make Dan’s bad days easier. It didn’t make asking for what he needed any easier for Dan, though.

Dan looked down at their hands as well, watching as Phil moved his anxiously, stretching out his fingers just to curl them back and pop his knuckles. He tightened his grip on Dan’s hand again afterward.

“We can talk more about this later, yeah? Promise. And I’ll properly think about it. But, if you want my exhausted, dumbass, answer...”

“I do,” Phil assured, offering the smallest smile.

“Just. I don’t know. The way you talk about your anxiety puts me at, like, fault a lot. I know that I’m not the best at coping in healthy ways but...it’s…”

“It’s not your fault that I get anxious,” Phil finished softly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault either,” Dan said quietly, eyes drifting closed.

“Yeah,” Phil breathed. “Neither is your stuff. So, you want me to be more careful in, like, how I express my anxiety?”

“I s'pose, yeah,” Dan agreed.

“Okay. I’ll try,” Phil promised. “Then, uh, can you do something for me, Dan?”

Dan gave a noncommittal shrug, eyes still closed.

“Can you bring your phone with you when you go out?” Phil asked. “You can put on do not disturb or airplane mode or whatever. You can ignore my texts. I don’t know. I just need to know I can find you if you’re gone too long. And to know that you can call someone if something happens. And—and you have, like, resources, if you need them.”

Dan knew what he meant. He meant 911 if Dan’s dumbass hurt himself in the throes of his numbness. He meant the suicide hotline if Dan became just a bit too hopeless. He meant his phone maps in case he couldn’t find his way home. He meant a car service in case Dan decided to drink too much.

Dan swallowed. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Phil whispered.

“Of course,” Dan answered. “I always try for you, y’know.”

Phil gazed fondly across at him as Dan seemed to drift off. “I try for you too, Dan.”

Dan squeezed his hand once more before he relaxed into the mattress and drifted off. Phil held onto Dan a bit tighter, knowing Dan was safe, falling peacefully asleep beside him. In the morning things would feel less scary. They would laugh at their emotional antics, and they’d talk things through with a bit more logic. They’d try. That was all they really had to do.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @[@truerequitedlove](https://truerequitedlove.tumblr.com) and [@midnightskydan](https://midnightskydan.tumblr.com)


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